Combat Rock
by AgentOhio273
Summary: (Modern AU) The "Freelancer" project is a multinational special warfare development program, comprising of fifty tier one operators of mostly American nationality from all branches of the armed forces. Operating from the Nimitz-Class carrier CVN-636 USS Mother of Invention, they conduct most of their operations from the Mediterranean sea.


South slid through the doorway of the wrecked house, taking cover next to a blown-out window.

"So, we _weren't_ supposed to expect the tank, right? Or the BMP? I'm just asking, 'cause, y'know, I forgot to pack anything explosive."

Carolina, crouched below a different window, drew a fresh MP7 magazine from her JPC. Her Seafoam-and-white t-shirt was coated in a thin layer of dust.

"Recon photos only showed technicals. They must've been hidden from aerial imaging."

"Yeah, no shit! What the fuck do we do about them?"

"Wait for our air support to get here. Already made the call."

"Aw fuck me, it's not Four-Seven, is it?"

"Montana." Carolina replied flatly.

"Oh, wow, that's even worse."

Carolina shrugged.

"Well, it's either that or a Tomahawk missile. Let's Focus on the foot soldiers for now."

South was in the middle of thinking up a snarky response, when she was interrupted by the heavy whip-crack of a suppressed SCAR-H one floor above her.

"Wash! What happened to hiding?" Carolina shouted through a ragged hole in the ceiling.

"They saw me first! I-uh, yeah, okay, we gotta go!"

South snuck a glance from cover, and immediately pulled back when a 7.62x39mm round tore a chunk from the frame of her window. Carolina took this chance to stand and send a volley of rounds downrange on semi-auto.

Carolina returned to cover. "Hit one."

Wash sprinted down the staircase.

"The BMP's onto us!"

"Then why the fuck are we- FUCK _OFF!_ -Why the fuck are we still here?"

South was interrupted by a flurry of gunfire against through the wall next to her, letting fly a 12 gauge shell from her CTR-stock equipped Mossberg 590A1 in response.

"South's right. Back door! Move!"

The trio sprinted from the back door of the house as the stubby profile of a rusted BMP-2 APC came into view, a salvo of 25mm autocannon rounds tearing clean through the top floor of the building not five seconds later.

Carolina led her fellow operators down a narrow street between rows of gutted one-story buildings, keying the Comtac III headset she was wearing over her multicam baseball cap.

"York, where are you?"

"Straight ahead, around the corner of the wall."

"I see you."

Carolina, rounded the corner, with Wash and South close behind, while York used his M1014 to put a buckshot shell into a pursuing insurgent.

"So, how are things?"

"Aside from the two armored vehicles out for our blood, pretty good." Carolina replied.

"Aren't we supposed to check for these things _before_ we head out, or am I missing something?"

South snorted as she loaded up her shotgun.

"Drone pilot fucked up. What do you expect?"

York pretended to think about it for a second.

"Oh, well, Fucked if I know, maybe for us to _do something_ about it?"

South threw up her arms in exasperation.

"Can't we like, shoot their windows out or something?"

Carolina turned to look at her.

"That's... actually not a bad idea, South."

She turned to look at a group of three small clay huts atop a small hill directly behind them.

Wyoming, respond."

"Still up 'ere, boss. Florida's in the next building over, spotting for me."

"Can you see the BMP or the tank?"

"Quite so. both of them."

"Can you put a round through the commander's viewport?"

"Without a doubt."

"The BMP first."

"Right. Got a bead on the bastard."

"Send it."

"Right ho."

There was a supersonic crack as a .338 Lapua magnum round flew overhead, followed by the sharp report of Wyoming's suppressed L115A3. The bullet had beaten the sound of the weapon that fired it.

"You hit him?"

Carolina could hear Wyoming laugh as he cycled the bolt of his weapon.

"Spot on target, poor chap behind the window must've proper soiled himself! They won't be seeing much through that anymore, no doubt."

"Now for the tank. You see it?"

"Old soviet T55. I got 'im lined up."

"Blind him."

A second round soared past overhead.

"Bang on. Right in the- bollocks. Gunner spotted me."

Carolina watched a figure get up from the dirt next to one of the three buildings and dive for cover behind another building, as a 105mm AP shell vaporized the fragile clay of the first hut.

Carolina could hear the scraping of boots on dust as Wyoming stood up.

"Bloody hell, jolly good that they can't aim worth their salt anymore. Where the bloody hell is our CAS?"

"Good Question."

Carolina keyed her radio to a different channel, while signalling Wash, South, and York to get moving.

"Phoenix 273, this is Mystic lead, requesting ETA, how copy?"

A new voice came over the radio, this one more distorted than the others.

"This is Phoenix 273, solid copy, ETA 45 seconds, targets not yet identified. Please advise."

"Phoenix 273, targets are one BMP-2 APC and one T55 MBT. Be advised, we are danger close. Use Paveway laser-guided bombs. Florida will guide you in."

"Roger that. Stand by to lase targets."

Carolina rounded a corner to her left, meeting a trio of insurgents face-to-face and double tapping two of them, while Wash dispatched the third with his SCAR.

As the four operators continued towards a more open area, Montana's F14D Super Tomcat drew closer, holding an altitude of 2500 feet.

"Phoenix 273 is on station, awaiting guidance."

"Acknowledged. Florida, lase the tank."

"Riiiight on it, boss!"

Carolina looked back at the hill, as Florida raised a handheld laser designator to his eyes, aiming it at the T55.

"Got 'im all set up for you!"

"Copy that. Rifle one."

As the F14D passed overhead, there was a growing whistling noise from above, and the T55 disappeared in a massive explosion of dirt, armor, and burning ammo.

Carolina couldn't hide a grin.

"Phoenix 273, good effect on target."

"Copy, Mystic lead. Stand by for another run on the BMP."

"Roger that. Florida, light 'em up."

"You got it!"

Florida painted the BMP-2 with the Infrared beam, as the BMP attempted to flee the area.

"Rifle two."

Montana's fighter passed overhead again, and the APC was vaporized by the 500-pound explosive.

"Enemy armor is down, evac should be on it's way."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and Carolina switched channels again.

"Whitehorse 479, be advised, enemy armor is destroyed, but the LZ is still hot."

The radio crackled, with the whine of a helicopter engine clearly audible in the background.

"Copy that, Mystic, I expected nothing less."

South rolled her eyes and muttered something about wanting to 'See that bitch even try to do better' before Carolina motioned for her to be quiet.

"You expected this? This was supposed to be a covert op."

"I know. Mark an LZ for me."

"On it."

Carolina signaled Florida and Wyoming to regroup with her, Wash, South and York, as she led them to the edge of the abandoned village they were fighting through.

"We're at the edge of the town, red smoke is the mark."

Carolina motioned to Florida, who loaded a red 40mm smoke round into the GL-1 mounted on his F2000 Tactical, and fired it over the group's heads to land in front of them, as he and Wyoming caught up.

In the distance, the massive outline of a Sikorsky MH-53J Pave Low IV heavy-lift helicopter grew closer.

"This is Whitehorse 479, I see the smoke. ETA 30 seconds."

"Roger that. I hope you have door gunners."

Four-Seven could be heard laughing over the radio.

"Oh, you better believe I did, boss."

"Good, get ready to u- Dammit!"

Carolina spun to her right as an group of insurgents sent a hail of AK fire in her direction. She and the rest of the group immediately returned fire.

She managed to drop three of the hostiles before her MP7 locked open, empty. Without missing a beat, she transitioned to her FNX45 Tactical and dispatched two more. York and Florida covering her while she reloaded her MP7.

Behind her, Wash was dealing with a group of enemies that had appeared on their right. He managed to drop four before the force of a bullet stopped by his JPC left him reeling.

South shoved Wash behind her and Blasted a fifth enemy with her Mossberg.

"Fuck! Get back!"

Wyoming pulled a Glock 17 Gen 4 Covered South while she dealt with Wash.

"You hurt?"

"Feels like I just got drop-kicked in the stomach, but I think I'm fine. Can you let go?"

South took a second to realize that she was still gripping the shoulder strap of Wash's plate carrier, and quickly let go.

"Sorry."

As Wash raised his rifle again, the deafening thunder of the MH-53J's rotors filled everyone's ears. As the brick-coloured dust and sand whirled around the descending helicopter, the buzz of two M134D miniguns on the side access doors and the heavy thumping of an M2 browning on the rear ramp cut through the drone of the engines, as the massive helo tore apart the attackers to either side of the team.

"Everybody in! Now!" Carolina shouted, as the Pave Low touched down in front of her.

The team didn't need any further encouragement, as the six operators sprinted around to the back of the helicopter and up the ramp, being sure to grab onto something the second they boarded.

As soon as the team was on board, Four-Seven lifted the helo into the air, spinning the aircraft around towards the direction arrived from.

As the helicopter moved away from the area, everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding in. York high-fived the ramp gunner, and gave a thumbs-up to the two door gunners.

"Oh, man! We. Are. Badasses! Christ, Williams, I owe you boys a drink. Thanks for pulling us out."

The ramp gunner shrugged.

"Hey man, It's what we do."

As Carolina moved towards the cockpit to get an ETA to their destination, Montana's F14D approached, forming up right behind and below the open ramp of the helo. He shook a fist towards the open ramp in triumph.

"Nice job, guys, that was a close one."

Wyoming was sitting on the right bench near the rear of the craft, resting his L115A3 on its stock. He gave Montana a two fingered salute.

"Jolly good fun, I say. I'm up for another round. Say, this reminds me of a joke. Knock knock."

York groaned.

"Don't even start."

"Come on, lad."

"Who's. There."

"Nawt-those"

"Nawt-those who?"

"Nawt-those chaps back there, we killed them all!"

Wash looked up, blinking a few times.

"That's... dark."

South folded her arms.

"I liked it."

"Well, yeah, _you_ would."

South smirked and flipped Wash off. Florida cut in.

"Now, now, no need to get hostile. Save that for the people we're supposed to shoot!"

As the MH53J crossed the shoreline down below, Carolina returned from the flight deck to see Montana holding position under the tail.

"ETA six minutes, boys. Montana, you're going in first. Anyway, nice shooting. Glad to have you, Four-Seven and this crew to cover us when things get rough."

Montana waved his hand.

"Don't mention it. You guys get what you came for?"

"Yeah, we disabled all their transport trucks, and grabbed all the intel we could carry in our backpacks."

The team continued to talk through their post-mission high as they drew closer to a _Nimitz_ -Class carrier and its defense battlegroup.

Carolina waved Montana away as the two aircraft closed on the carrier. Montana broke formation to line up behind the carrier, dropping his gear and flaps.

The ATC center aboard the USS _Mother of Invention_ came across his line.

"Phoenix 273, this is Citadel, you're cleared for landing."

"Roger that, I'm on final."

"Call the ball."

Montana glanced at the "meatball" landing system, verifying that he could see all the lights.

"Phoenix 273 has the ball."

Four-Seven watched Montana's aircraft catch the wire above carrier CVN-636, her helicopter keeping pace with the slow moving vessel as she waited for the deck tug to clear the fighter from the landing area.

Minutes later, her clearance came over the radio, and she maneuvered the helo into a soft landing on the flight deck of the massive warship.

As Four-Seven and her aircrew powered down and secured the bird, Carolina and her team disembarked from the ramp, walking across the flight deck to be greeted by their fellow operators in the Multinational Experimental Special Warfare Project "Freelancer."

South was trapped in a hug from North.

"Glad to see you're safe, kiddo."

South looked up at him and smiled.

"Glad to be back, bro."

Carolina was watching everyone welcome each other back, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see that hand belonged to Tex.

"Looks like you kicked some ass out there, huh?"

Carolina was about to retort when she realized that Tex was legitimately trying to be friendly.

"Well... Yeah, I did. _We_ did."

"Hey."

The two agents turned to see CT stride up to them, wearing a leather bomber jacket she'd probably found with ease aboard a carrier.

"You get anything?"

Carolina unslung her Condor compact assault pack from around her shoulders.

"Oh, definitely, we hit a jackpot. Whole bunch of files, even a few hard drives."

CT's face lit up.

"Ohhh, they're gonna be missing _that_. I gotta go through that stuff. Nice fucking catch!"

"Wash, York, and South got some too."

"Great! When can I get my hands on it?"

"As soon as there's free time. So, fifteen minutes or so. I have to debrief everyone."

"Great! I can't wait." 

* * *

**Yes, I'm aware of the fact that the MH53J Pave Low and the F14D have both been retired, but I like them too much. Anyway, If I continue this, The chapters will mostly be one-shot type things set in this universe.**

 **I'm honestly surprised that nobody's done this type of modern AU yet.**


End file.
